


Under Construction

by EllesAlwaysWriting



Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band)
Genre: Bitchy Minor Character Extraordinaire Oh Sehun, Camboy Lee Taeyong, Carpenter Park Chanyeol, Casual Catboy, Chanyeol's Memory Is Very Bad That's The Joke That's It, Gamer Byun Baekhyun, Guess The NCT Member, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oops Too Much Plot/Was Supposed To Be Porn, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Unrequited Crush, Yes Both of Those Tags Apply Shh Don't Think About It Too Much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllesAlwaysWriting/pseuds/EllesAlwaysWriting
Summary: “You’re still being a moron,” Baekhyun says, squeezing the last bit of water he can out of his hair. “And overreacting a bit, I mean, you’re building an Instagram Thirst Trap Den, so what?”“Could you not say that? Jesus,” Chanyeol cringes, as if he hadn’t been calling him and all his friends Faceless Thots 1-4 a couple hours ago. “My aunt babysat this kid, for fuck’s sake.”Or: while doing some free carpentry for a family friend, Chanyeol reconnects with an old classmate who may or may not secretly be a part of a super popular Instagram clique of E-Boys (who totally aren't actually just amateur pornstars...totally!).
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> Chanyeol and his casual carpentry live rent-free in my head while Taeyong's camboy mannerisms haunt my dreams. One cup of [awkward SM Rookie photos](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/5a/eb/5e/5aeb5ec3227c8409e2281d13644eee84.jpg), a pinch of friendly encouragement, and way too many interior design shows later, this monstrosity was born! Enjoy my descent into madness!

Chanyeol has always been the type to get his hands dirty. Like most young men, he was always encouraged to do things like wrestle in the grass and build magnificent towers of blocks and boxes just for the sheer enjoyment of bashing them to the ground as a boy. Throughout his childhood he discovered a love of all things involving any kind of “dirty work.” Painting, cooking, gardening, and ultimately, a love of architecture. His collection of LEGO blocks were constantly scattered around the house as a child, sorted into neater piles as an adolescent, and eventually secluded into his father’s backyard workroom as a teenager in organized containers. No longer building things with the intent on destroying them for a quick fit of giggles, his childhood hobby of plastic construction developed into model car and diorama building. It was only natural that he picked up woodwork and glassblowing as well, being only half a step away from all of his father’s materials. Chanyeol took a serious liking to constructing birdhouses and tables his older sister would design and draw up for him, mirroring their parents in the roles of designer and handyman almost unconsciously.

When his carpentry skills surpassed simple projects, everyone expected Chanyeol to begin working with his parents full time at their architecture company, including Chanyeol. What he hadn’t expected was falling in love with composing music in college, a casual pastime he’d also developed into a larger scale of opportunities than he imagined. By the time he graduated, he’d already produced and written hundreds of songs and been accredited on every kind of of musical project there is, from mixtapes to independent film scores. He was making good money doing to as well, which he definitely had difficultly explaining to his family, as they’d always believed in the Starving Artist trope. They were all expecting him to follow in his big sister’s footsteps, like he had been his whole life, and join the family business. As scary of a decision as it was, Chanyeol decided against it. Instead, he pooled enough money together with his friends to move all operation out of Chanyeol’s small spare bedroom and into a full studio. 

Despite this being his plan B to becoming a full time carpenter like his father, he and his friends really had no choice but to renovate the space they bought themselves. Chanyeol hadn’t been given a project of this scale since he redesigned his parents’ kitchen and he was ecstatic to tear up another floor, strip some more walls bare, and hopefully avoid knicking any water pipes in the process. Where he’d believed that his hyper-fixation on construction and interior design had been replaced by musical engineering and filmography, building his studio space showed him that the professions could happily coexist in his life. He’d never be a complete master of either anyway, having collected a million hobbies alongside the two, so he thought he’d might as well get as good as he could at both. 

He’d always let his father know when he was between musical projects and could work as an independent contractor under his family’s company. The most he’d be asked to do was quick 3D model tours of his mother’s floor plans or basic plumbing & electrical work, nothing too big or time consuming. He would also routinely get volunteered to put together furniture or install appliances for older friends & family, simply for being a Park Family Member©️. It didn’t help that everyone knew how much he enjoyed the work; he often did it for next to nothing with a smile on his face, unlike his uncles & cousins.

And that’s exactly how he found himself packing up a basic tool kit and planning an early morning commute over to a friend of his aunt to construct a new bed frame for her daughter. Exact payment wasn’t discussed, of course, but he was fine with that. He’s only met the woman a couple times, but he remembered she was a pastry chef who’d most definitely have something delicious to reward him with. Apparently most of the room had already been redesigned and the bed was the last puzzle piece. The headboard his sister designed had intricate shelving meant to be secured to the wall, electrical sockets, USB charging ports, and even light switches. It’d be easy enough for him to finish within a day or two. He’d probably even haul in the mattresses too, just for the sake of completion and being as helpful as he can be.

One of Chanyeol’s favorite parts of doing projects like this for distant family & friends is getting a tiny peek into their lives, if only just for a couple of hours. He’s a social person at heart, but the isolating nature of his job kept him at arm's length with many people in his life (that arm being connected to a phone, usually). The drive to Mrs. Lee’s place is about 30 mins, just enough time to contemplate just how long it’s been since he’s seen her & her children. His parents had lots of picnics and dinner parties when he was living with them, but the last one he can clearly recall them attending was about three or four years ago. They had since moved out of the city and with his only connection to them being a recipe group she posted in religiously on Facebook, they've understandably lost touch. He can’t even remember the daughter’s name. Assuming she won’t actually be around while he’s there, he’s sure it’ll be written on something or spelled out somewhere in her new decor. 

As he pulls his truck up to the house he can see straight through the front room to the kitchen, the door opened wide with a crystal clear screen door sealing out the cool breeze of the morning.

“Chanyeol!” Mrs. Lee calls from the small flower bed on the side of the porch. He’s barely in the driveway when she trots up to hug him with one arm, holding out a bouquet she was planting to avoid crushing it between them. Spring was just on the outskirts but she clearly couldn’t wait the week or two for more suitable gardening weather. 

“Mrs. Lee, it’s so nice to see you! How are you?” 

“Can’t complain, can’t complain. Oh, look at you,” she coos, free hand patting his cheek softly. “You get more handsome every time I see you.”

“Please, you’re the one getting more beautiful everyday,” he winks.

She chuckles shortly at the compliment, swatting him on the arm. “Oh, you stop that, you. How are your parents? I heard you guys got the contract for the new school stadium, congratulations!”

“Yeah, we did! That was all Yura’s doing, I’m just there to build the concession stands,” he jokes. Their parents definitely credit that accomplishment as a Park Sibling collaboration, but it really was his sister’s design that got the investors interested, he just created the model that proved the space to be sufficient.

He chats a little more with her from the porch chair as she plucks and pulls weeds from her garden, a nursery of flowers scattered around him waiting to be situated in their new home. It’s only about 8 am, the sun just getting settled over the horizon, and it’s calming to watch the neighborhood awaken around them. Lawnmowers starting up, roosters calling, windows and blinds opening to the fresh air. It’s a welcomed change from the constant bustling of the city he lives in. 

Mr. Lee comes out to greet them as he’s leaving for work, kissing his wife goodbye and directing Chanyeol towards the backyard, the quickest route to the guest house. There’s a pile of dissembled pink furniture pieces below the large window next to the open door, obviously the old bedroom set. Chanyeol happily breathes the faint odor of new paint and cleaning supplies as he steps into the doorway. The guest house is laid out like a studio apartment, with a half wall separating the open living space from the kitchen area (it’s really just a sink and fridge planked by two small counters, but hey, so was his own kitchen). The cream color on the walls is still drying, wet areas glistening in the early morning sunlight pouring through in both directions. The sliding backdoor directly in front of him is also open and lined with several paint cans.

It’s extremely quiet, but he still raps lightly on the open door, just to be sure he’s not disturbing anybody. Nothing stirs and no one answers, so he bows his head slightly and enters. Neither of the elders mentioned their daughter being home, so he feels comfortable taking a look around before getting to work. 

There’s another half wall to his right, separating the living room from the slightly raised bedroom area and another open door leading to the bathroom. The wardrobe and vanity dresser is already assembled and in place, both in the rich cherry wood color as the headboard and bed frame pieces collected in the furthest corner. The wall intended to house the headboard is still the original paint color, a dark brown almost identical to the wood of the furniture being swallowed on all sides by the new bright cantaloupe color. He decides to fold back the plastic tarp covering the two steps to the bedroom platform, knowing full well he’s likely to forget they’re there. He’ll probably still stumble a bit over them, but better safe than sorry.

Chanyeol briefly wonders what it would be like to continue living with his parents and renovating his childhood room like Chaeyong (he didn’t even have to put his ingenious plan of snooping through some near-stranger’s mail to find out their name; her mother mentioned it passively enough that he could pretend he remembered it). His room at his parents’ house wasn’t as large as this entire freaking studio apartment, obviously, but replacing his lighter, child sized furniture with something more mature and sturdy that suits his current taste seemed like a fun project. From what he heard from Mrs. Lee, they’ve all enjoyed the time spent repainting and changing things around so far. 

He pulls up the floor plan Yura emailed him on his phone, double checking all the measurements marked on the wall and taking a couple ‘before’ pictures of the space before hauling his tool kits in. The bedroom area has a new gray carpet, soft enough to make Chanyeol think about working barefoot. Obviously he doesn’t, that would be dangerous, but dammit if he doesn’t think about it. He compromises with himself by mapping out the electrical map on the wall without his shoes, carefully laying out dormant wire and drilling small pilot holes in areas he’ll cut away for switches and outlets. 

The headboard spans nearly the entire length of the wall, so he quadruple-checks that everything is in the correct place for the bed to be centered perfectly. Feeding wires is usually the most tedious and annoying process, especially when working alone, but luckily he was relocating these outlets completely and any spaces he cut out would be covered by the bedside tables.

He puts his shoes back on to do all the finicky, dangerous wire cutting and soldering, of course.

There’s a meticulous roadmap of missing wall and exposed sockets on display when Mrs. Lee comes back to announce that lunch is ready, and he finishes cutting out the area for the side table lamp before washing up. He instinctively heads left to the bathroom first, but quickly reroutes to in the kitchen sink when he realizes the bathroom is gutted, probably not functioning. He unzips his drywall dusted overalls that he somehow also got paint on ( _I haven’t even been in the living room, what the fuck?_ ) and shakes the sleeves clean before tying them around his waist. He takes a quick progress pic, then determines a selfie would be a better way to answer his roommate’s text asking how the job was going. He can tell things must be slow at the coffee shop because Baekhyun rarely texts him during his shifts. He sets the phone down against a paint can on the floor and squats in front of the wired wall with two peace signs pressed to his cheeks, waiting for the self timer to sound. Satisfied with the cringe-worthiness of the picture, he sends it without a caption and heads up to the main house.

He’s greeted by the heavenly smell of fresh bread as he comes through the back door. He makes sure to toe off his shoes in the small laundry room before making a beeline for the kitchen. He’s mostly just following his nose, because it’s been many years since he’s been inside this house. The last time was for one of Chaeyong’s birthday parties when they were quite young, and he can’t even tell if he actually remembers or if it's just fabricated memories from hearing it recounted so many times. The kitchen is empty, but there’s sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade in the middle of the table that he helps himself to. He’s in absolute bliss as he bites into the warm brioche, not even getting to acknowledge ham and cheese before a raspy voice calls out to him sternly, impossibly close.

“Uhmm...hello?”

Chanyeol jolts violently, knowing it would be too dramatic to shriek like he wanted to, but they did just scare the shit out of him. He turns quickly, realizing his ears really weren’t deceiving him because the gigantic pair of eyes staring up at him are only about a step & a half away. “Oh! Shit, sorry, I — uh...” He’s not sure why he’s apologizing and mumbling through the chunks of food still in his mouth. He’s not the one sneaking up on people and invading their personal space. Something in their stare just makes him feel so incredibly guilty and aware that he’s in a stranger’s home. He swallows dryly before repeating, “hi.”

Their eyebrows furrow without their eyes squinting, somehow. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Mrs. Lee is appearing from the opposite side of the kitchen before Chanyeol can answer the question. “Language, young man,” she scolds, pinching the person’s arm. “Nice of you to join the living.” 

He laughs shortly at her quip, painfully sarcastic. Chanyeol swears he hasn’t blinked once but at least he’s not staring him down anymore. 

“This is Chanyeol, Mr. Park’s boy, don’t you remember him?” she nudges, gesturing towards him as if she’s presenting something important. 

Chanyeol smiles weakly and raises his hand in a wave. Although slightly comforted by having backup in the room, he’s still majorly uncomfortable with how close this kid is standing to him, still.

“What’s he doing here, mom?” he asks flatly, clearly not impressed as his eyes dart around at everything but the person he’s asking about.

_Mom?_ Chanyeol repeats in his head. He doesn’t remember a son, but clearly his memory was nothing to depend on right now. The boy finally backing out of his personal bubble looked young but not that young. Chanyeol’s memory isn’t that bad...is it? No, no, no, he would have definitely remembered another little boy, especially with Chaeyong being around his own sister’s age. 

“Be nice, Taeyong, he’s putting together your headboard.”

“YOUR headboard?” Chanyeol accidentally repeats out loud, seizing up again when they both turn to him. “I mean, uh — you, you're living in the guest house?”

“Yeah, I am,” he answers, suddenly relaxed and softened under the doting hands of his mother. He picks up a sandwich as she lovingly smoothes his messy hair into place. “Are you gonna get the rest of Chaeyong’s crap off my lawn, too?” He smiles, still guarded and stiff but clearly trying. He bites down so aggressively onto his sandwich that there’s no way he’s not imagining it’s Chanyeol’s head. 

Chanyeol is too glad he hadn’t been mishearing and misreading people all day to be afraid of that, though. His ears could be capable of such a thing, who knows? He wasn’t wrong, though, not this time. There _was_ a daughter and that _was_ her furniture. Got it, got it, okay. But that still doesn’t explain where this other kid came from.

He can tell they don’t get much company because Mrs. Lee is eager to break out a couple photo books when both boys awkwardly admit to not remembering each other that well. Apparently they barely had time to acknowledge one another as children because they both had such intense tunnel vision when it came to their sisters. She’s got pictures of the four of them together alongside his cousins and other friends, playing in Chanyeol’s childhood living room mostly, but it’s the pictures of them as teenagers that gives Chanyeol pause. The fog over his memory clears seeing them in their school uniforms, and he honestly feels bad for not recognizing the kid at first glance. He does look significantly different, they both do, and Mrs. Lee narrates that this was the time they noticeably grew further apart as she flips through the plastic pages. Taeyong discovered his desire to perform quicker than Chanyeol and focused on music programs while he focused more on athletics. Although they were both on the varsity track team, their social groups were as different as different could be.

He has to remind himself not to call Taeyong a kid, a tough feat when sitting directly across from him at the kitchen table. Perhaps it’s the bright hair color (and admittedly better haircut) that’s dwarfing him, a faded mess of a pale blue and purple mullet that his mom can’t seem to stop tussling. It’s easier to tell he’s only about 3 years younger when his face isn’t being smushed and squeezed adoringly. The oversized dress shirt he’s wearing doesn’t help either; the way he had it rolled up around his small forearms and tucked into his (also oversized) sweatpants made him look like a toddler playing in his father’s wardrobe. Chanyeol can see the resemblance between him and his sister, they basically had the same face apart from her higher cheekbones and his squarer jawline.

And his eyes. 

It was a little hypocritical, considering what he’s been told about his own features, but there’s something about Taeyong’s eyes that makes Chanyeol... _uneasy_. They’re only trained on him when he’s looking away, the palpable hostility of his gaze now only simmering, but no doubt still just as intense. It’s the kind of stare you can literally feel, like you’re being examined far past anything physically possible. Did Chanyeol make people feel like this when he looked at them? Stared at them? Besides the burning of eyes every time he looks in another direction, the kid’s initial impression has all but disappeared, the quiet aggressor now melted down into this small, giggling, big eyed baby following his mother’s every move around the house like a newborn chick.

But he’s not a baby. Chanyeol is reminded of that every time he catches his intense profile as he’s quickly averting his eyes away from him, when his monotone voice booms up from his incredibly innocent face ( _you’re projecting again_ , he scolds himself). For some reason Chanyeol feels transfixed on the way his lips pout when he speaks — read: whines — to his mom, all but enabling the intense infantilizing she subjects him to. They look almost bright pink in the afternoon sun, his bottom lip a little bigger and darker, probably because he won’t stop chewing on the damn thing. And Chanyeol won’t stop staring, not until he releases it from the death grip of his teeth, usually to take a bite of his food. Then he pretends to look away. No, no, he looks away. He’s not staring at this kid — boy — ugh. He’s not staring at this guy, even though he’s definitely staring at him.

Chanyeol feels like he can finally breathe when Taeyong announces that he’s gonna go get washed up and dressed, leaving the room with only a few pats and kisses to both his cheeks. He groans when he realizes the time, 2:16 PM. His lunch break lasted a lot longer than he expected and he’s behind schedule now. After getting over the realization that he could have been excused from the awkward lunch by mentioning that he definitely has work to do, he slips his overalls back on as he heads back to the guest house to install the base of the headboard. Now that he’s concentrating a little harder on not being a bonehead, he’s sure to begin in areas free of any wire paths or outlets. It’s a bit darker when he finishes, the square wood panels lining up in a bit of an alternating pattern with bare, melon colored walls and wired brown ones in-between. He goes out the back to turn the power on and check the electrical hook up while there’s still plenty of daylight. If everything is correct the two outlets on either side should have power and the light switch he’ll install into the bedside table should control the lamps.

Of course it doesn’t, because that would have been too easy. 

“Goddamnit,” he sighs, staring up at the one unresponsive test bulb while flipping the light switch back and forth. “At least the fucking outlets work,” he gently reminds himself, seeing that his phone is still charging on one socket and squeezing the trigger on the drill plugged into the other. He unplugs both and jogs outside to the fuse box, flipping the power back off. He stands there for a moment, reviewing the circuit map in his mind. Maybe he hadn’t connected the ground wire in the left fixture securely enough...it was the last thing he did before going to eat and he was pretty famished at the time. 

Being tall enough to stand eye level with the hole bulging with wires that he needs to assess, he only needs to stand on the first step of the ladder to see what he’s doing. He assumed correctly, both the hot and ground wires were twisted too loosely. He curses himself again, sighing as he retwists them both with his pliers and replaces the wire nuts. It’s been a hot minute since he’s made that kind of amateur mistake. Note to self: no working hungry.

When he steps off the ladder and turns he’s immediately startled by the fact that Taeyong is just fucking standing there, silently leaning on the half wall.

“BRO!” Chanyeol shrieks, yanking his clear goggles up to rest on his head. “What the fuck?!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” he sputters, seemingly sincere. “I thought if I didn’t say anything this time I wouldn’t scare you.”

Making it pass a very large open window without so much as casting a shadow and across a plastic-lined floor without making enough of a rustle to draw attention is Chanyeol’s exact definition of scary. I mean, come on, this guy is small but he’s gotta weigh something. The Bluetooth speaker playing next to his feet definitely wasn’t loud enough to drown out footsteps. 

“I’m sorry, really,” he chuckles, seeing that Chanyeol still looks annoyed. “I just wanted to see how things were coming along...”

“Well, make a little more of an entrance next time,” Chanyeol pleads, taking off his glove and rubbing his temple, “please.”

Taeyong nods, “okay, geez.”

“Forreal, if you sneak up on me one more time you’re gonna be putting this bed together yourself,” he threatens. 

Taeyong gasps dramatically in response, clutching his chest. 

Chanyeol's being a little more serious than Taeyong seems to think he’s being. Not to be judgmental, but if there was a less “handy” type than Taeyong, he’s never seen it. He’s probably useless with this kind of stuff. 

Chanyeol doesn’t move until the other does, feeling free to continue working as Taeyong glances around the living room. He’s got his back turned to Chanyeol, leaning against the plastic covered black leather couch in the middle of the room to inspect the newly dried paint. Chanyeol busies himself stacking more of the square baseboards in the opposite corner. This time he actually hears Taeyong approaching, not sure if he’s just actually paying closer attention or if he’s mocking him by stomping towards him.

“Checkerboard,” he mumbles, stepping next to Chanyeol as he’s crouched down on the floor. 

“What?” the older says, pretending to need the boards perfectly aligned because he really, really doesn’t want to get into another staring match right now.

“I don’t know, I just think it looks like a checkerboard,” he explains. He shifts his feet, crinkling the plastic tarp under them, and Chanyeol notes that the FILAs he’s wearing look gigantic at the end of his tiny legs. “Really ugly checkerboard.”

Chanyeol stands up straight, secretly taking in Taeyong entirely as he rises above him. He’s wearing black skinny jeans cuffed at the ankle with a green highlighter t-shirt and a long chain belt around his hips — over his shirt, which is...a choice. A bit of his long hair is peaking out under the gray beanie pulled over his head, the only subtle accessory of his outfit. 

“I know you’re not done yet, hyung, I’m just kidding,” his smile is small as he reads the other’s expression.

Chanyeol wasn’t expecting an honorific with the way the kid’s been consistently informal with him. He tries not to show that he’s flattered by a bit of that respect still existing in the back of Taeyong’s mind. He smiles down at him disarmingly, “it’s okay. I’m just tense today, my bad.”

“Clearly,” Taeyong says a bit under his breath, and he quickly moves to correct himself when Chanyeol cuts his eyes at him. “And, uh...sorry about biting your head off in the kitchen earlier.”

Chanyeol flitches at the phrase. 

“It’s just that we’ve been doing all the renovations together, ya’know? I didn’t know mom asked you to put in the bed until I...well—“

“Caught me eating your lunch?” Chanyeol jokes, nudging him with his elbow lightly. 

He shrinks, physically and vocally, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Have I said ‘sorry’ enough times yet?” 

“Uhhh, maybe say it a few more times,” Chanyeol says as he’s walking back to the corner, collecting more wood squares from the dwindling pile and chuckling along with Taeyong. He doesn’t realize how hot on his trail the boy is until he’s plopping dramatically onto the half wall ledge next to the stacks of wood.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whines childishly, lips poked out in a pout.

It’s a different pout than the one he gives his mother and — nope, nope, NOPE, Chanyeol did not just think about that. He definitely didn’t think about that at all. He’s just gonna stare at the floor now because he really doesn’t need to look up at him. Watching his skinny little legs twist while he whined was bad enough. 

“Is that enough?” Taeyong giggles, propping his chin up in his hands.

Chanyeol flinches again, internally. Just internally. Or at least least he hopes he only did it internally. He’s really starting to get freaked out by this guy seemingly reading his mind. Chanyeol looks up, because he’s no longer focused on not being a bonehead. “Maybe one more time,” he requests, smirking.

Taeyong is still pouting, eyes blown and intense like he’s trying to make himself cry, but he cracks a smile when Chanyeol looks at him. He attempts to put the innocent expression back immediately, despite clearly being caught. “I’m sorry, Chanyeol,” he whines lowly, laying his head down. He’s not breaking eye contact this time, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly as he sucks his bottom lip back into his goddamn mouth and he erupts in laughter when Chanyeol looks away first. Not because he was flustered — of course he wasn’t! — but because he somehow let one of the shelves slide down onto his fingers during their staring contest.

“Fuck! Damnit.”

“Okay, clumsy,” he laughs again, swinging around to the other side of the wall. “I’m about to go into the city for a while. Is there anything you need? Something I can help with?”

_Yeah, you can keep your big ass eyes far, far away from me_ , Chanyeol thinks, but he’s already wasted enough time needlessly talking to (flirting with?) this guy. “Yeah, actually, you can. Go and flip the breaker so I can test the lights.”

“Yessir,” he turns gracefully and Chanyeol watches him walk across the living room, just to make sure that—

“Oh, so you are capable of making noise when you walk? Good to know!” 

“Haha! Very funny.”

The whirring of electronics as the power flows back into the building fills the silence, everything booting back up almost immediately. Chanyeol flips on the switch, pumping his fist victoriously when both bulbs power on. “Yes!” He plugs in the drill just to be sure and it spins just as triumphantly as him when he squeezes the trigger. 

“My hero,” Taeyong praises from behind him. Again, moving without making a sound and creeping Chanyeol the fuck out, but he genuinely looks happy to see the features of his new room coming together, so he’ll let it slide this time. Or maybe he lets it slide because he’s got his hands clasped and is fluttering his eyelashes like some adoring damsel. It’s probably just another cutesy act he’s going to laugh his way out, so Chanyeol refuses to get caught staring for the third time. 

Chanyeol’s phone begins to chime suddenly, interrupting his music with the default FaceTime request. It’s Baekhyun, probably on his usual walk home from the coffee shop since it’s after 6. “Oh shit,” he presses accept and sets the phone back on the speaker. 

It’s immediately apparent that Baekhyun doesn’t need a speaker to be heard. “Hey, dumbass!” he cackles. “I’m picking up dinner, I hope you’re hungry!” He’s not looking at his phone, ear buds visible as he’s looking both ways while crossing the street. 

“Who’s that? Your boyfriend?” Taeyong asks teasingly, winking as he leans over the half wall. Chanyeol can see someone pulling into the driveway through the window, and considering that the boy barrels noisily to the door the moment they honk, that’s probably his ride. 

“No, shut up,” Chanyeol answers, flipping him off.

“Rude!” he chuckles loudly, swinging around the door frame. “Later, hyung!”

Chanyeol pretends he doesn’t see Taeyong looking back at him through the window as he struts to the car, but he’s doing such a good job of pretending to not see him that he doesn’t hear Baekhyun trying to get his attention. 

“Hey! Yeol! Helloooo??”

“What?! Huh?” He turns, met with Baekhyun’s staring expectedly at him through the screen as he waits at another crosswalk.

“I asked who that was,” Baekhyun says in a suspicious tone. Chanyeol already knows what he’s implying. 

“A rude ass kid, that’s who.”

“Oh...he looked kinda familiar, is all.”

“Did he? You saw him?”

“Yeol, he was right beside you, yeah, I saw him,” Baekhyun laughs. “Are you okay? You’re not high on paint fumes again, are you?”

_Maybe I am..._ “I’m not painting, dick head,” he shoots back, brandishing the drill at his phone like a gun.

“Whatever, man. Are you gonna be home soon? I could have sworn you said this job was only gonna take a day.” He sounds concerned enough, but Chanyeol knows he really just wants to gossip about work while they eat like always. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Chanyeol sighs. “But you know me, forever the perfectionist.”

“Forever being distracted by rude ass kids, you mean.” Clearly Baekhyun is still holding a grudge against Chanyeol’s nephew for distracting them while he was helping Chanyeol repair his parent’s fence. Baekhyun’s more of a baby person than a kid person, so he didn’t take well to the constantly teasing 7 year old.

Wasting time playing with babies and kids while he’s supposed to be working is definitely something Chanyeol gets caught doing often, too. But this wasn’t the same. This was way, way different. He got distracted reconnecting with an old family friend, that’s it. Taeyong was not a baby, and Chanyeol most certainly did not want to waste anymore time playing with him. He didn’t want to play with him at all, in fact. Not. At. All. 

He doesn’t get home until after eight, although a lot more gets done without Taeyong lurking around. He’s still checking his peripheral every 30 minutes or so, though, since he’s proven he was capable of materializing beside him at any moment. He doesn’t, luckily. Chanyeol gets the entire base of the headboard installed and the bedside tables assembled in peace.

He’d be back at the Lee Family household tomorrow morning, hopefully not long enough to awkwardly fill in Taeyong’s place at dinner with his parents and sister again. It was nice catching up with Chaeyong, though, and getting further clarification that she did in fact exist and he didn’t need to get his ears checked. It turns out that Chaeyong is moving abroad soon and moved back into the main house to be a little closer to her parents before she leaves in a couple months (Yura clearly got her wires crossed as well and he’d be sure to make a big fuss about it later). The privacy she acquired by moving into the detached guest house at sixteen was relinquished to her little brother, who had recently moved back home for… “reasons.” It was clear they didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with him absent, and Chanyeol wasn’t one to pry. 

  
  
  
  


After dropping some loaves of bread off at his parents’ house for Mrs. Lee, Chanyeol finally makes it to his own door.

“Yeol! Oh my god, FINALLY!” Baekhyun exclaims, barreling into the hallway before he can barely get his keys on the hook. 

“I know, I know, I’m late,” he sighs, shoving the pastry box into his best friend’s hand. “But! I come bearing pound cake!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, that’s not important,” he stops himself, inspecting the collapsible box as if he can see through it, “wait, what flavor?”

“Chocolate marble.”

“Oh, fuck yes, I love your family,” he heads towards the kitchen hurriedly and is already fishing for a knife by the time Chanyeol gets his shoes off. “Anyway, anyway, anyway! Come look at this!” 

“What is it, Baek? What’s up?” Instead of following Baekhyun into the kitchen he just heads straight for his bathroom, stripping down as he walks. He really does want to get on with their normal after work routine where they bitch about deluded musicians he dealt with and entitled caffeine addicts Baekhyun had to serve but he’s too gross and sweaty for that tonight. All he wants to do is wash the drywall out of his hair and scrub his armpits.

Unsurprisingly, Baekhyun follows him into the bathroom, already nonchalantly munching on a slice of the cake. “You’re gonna regret ignoring me, man. This just might be the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to us.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” Chanyeol chuckles, continuing to get undressed. He honestly wouldn’t even care if Baekhyun hops into the shower with him. He’s that tired. “I asked what was up.” Despite the fact that he’s beginning to brush his teeth, his friend still shoves his iPhone in his face. It’s an Instagram post and Chanyeol doesn’t even bother looking further than the logo before he groans. “Who’s that? Your e-thot crush of the week?” It’s a fair question Baekhyun shouldn’t get offended by. He’s constantly falling in love with a fellow game streamer or cosplayer or random member of his Discord server.

Baekhyun scrunches his face, offended by the fair question, but his expression turns smug as he taps the top of his phone with his index finger. “No, it’s not. It’s yours.”

Chanyeol spits, almost all over the mirror because Baekhyun wouldn’t move his hand out of the way. “Excuse me?” 

“Look,” Baekhyun says, moving the phone closer to his face. “Do you see what I see?” he asks in a sing-song tone.

He almost recognized the username but the obnoxious neon of the shirt in the picture coupled with the filter the poster chose blinded him. “A really bright shirt?” Chanyeol guesses, squinting.

Of course that’s not the only thing in the picture, Chanyeol’s just messing with him. He rolls his eyes, physically putting the phone in his friend’s hand. “Yes, AND?”

With the screen a safer distance away from his face, he can see that the picture isn't just of some super neon shirt but a guy wearing a super neon shirt. The part of their face that would be showing is covered with a black mask and their thumb is hooked in the front of their shorts so low that the band of their underwear is showing. 

Baekhyun is looking up at him expectantly, looking for some grande reaction to an obvious thirst trap of some random guy.

Curious, Chanyeol clicks the username, still feeling like he’s missing whatever Baekhyun is trying to show him. The account, **@technolog.ae** , is a myriad of typecast punk aesthetic and street wear looks; some shirtless, some in provocative positions with other people, all faceless in some way. He realizes now that he does recognize the account, but only vaguely. Baekhyun would usually just send whatever Internet person he was lusting after to their group chat — he’s definitely seen this account before but these pages all run together sometimes — so Chanyeol still doesn’t get it. The picture he showed him isn’t even the most recent one. The top of this feed has a post from 3 hours ago (which Baekhyun liked already) of them in the same neon shirt, except there’s a third hand brazenly grabbing the guys’ crotch. It’s even tagged. Apparently the hand belongs to **@technolog.ng** , whoever that is.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason you’re personally showing me your softcore porn feed? Besides the usual reason, like, no offense, but the one time we did that together was enough for me.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Baekhyun groans, snatching the phone and furiously scrolling. “Yeol, look at this.”

The screen is back in his face but this time he doesn’t take it from him, training his eyes on it as he reaches to turn on the shower. It’s another mirror pic, not really showing off an outfit but stripping one off. It’s full body and strangely angled, someone else is definitely taking it. His face-obscuring object of choice this time is the crewneck sweater he’s pulling over his head. The caption is some subjective cheesy advice of slipping into something warm & cozy and Chanyeol’s rolling his eyes because what the fuck is he supposed to be seeing? 

Defeated, he shrugs.

“Oh my GOD, dude!”

“What?!” Chanyeol chuckles, “Just send me the link and I’ll beat off to it later, what more do you want from me?” He expects a rebuttal, another dramatic outburst because boy, was Baekhyun always too excited about these random guys. Instead, he surprisingly backs off.

“Okay, I will,” he huffs. “And I want you to take a good, hard look at it this time.” He punctuates having the last word by popping the final bit of cake into his mouth, “moron.”

Chanyeol wants to enter a back and forth of _no, you!_ with his also fully grown adult roommate but then he’d literally never be able to bathe in peace. After a quick shower, he slips on his pajamas and jogs into the kitchen for a water bottle. Luckily the living room is Baekhyun-free and he rejoices in the momentary lack of harassment. He’s still baffled by his friend’s infatuation with a guy whose face he’s never even seen, decent physique aside. Seriously, what could he have missed that had Baekhyun jumping him the minute he got home, unable to summarize it in a text?

He’s warming up a midnight snack of leftover pizza before he realizes he’s even hungry. His cell phone, left forgotten in his coat pocket due to the ambush, suddenly pings. It’s Baekhyun, sending him the link to Faceless Thot’s Instagram. He sighs, actually reaching his bed before he lets the curiosity eat him alive once again. Turns out he was actually already following the account, which is confusing, but also unsurprising. Pizza in one hand and phone in the other, he scrolls idly through the page as he chews, very much enjoying the alternative aesthetic of it all, but still dumbfounded. He looks for some kind of hint in the comments, maybe even a band account. It’s plausible, seeing as how almost every other guy he tags has the same “technolog” prefix, similar profiles, and he knows Baekhyun’s a sap for vocalists of any kind. All he finds out is that he’s 25 and he answers to “Baby” in both English and Korean like they’re his name. Explains the username...A.E. does kinda sound like phonetic shorthand for 애기.

He also find out that a lot of people really, reeeeeally wanna fuck this guy. His roommate included, based on his dozens of comments full of heart eyed and tongue emojis. Shocker.

The crust is in his mouth when he finally texts Baekhyun back a sleeping emoji, giving up completely. It’s late and he’s got to be up at 7 AM for a half-hour drive for 8 hours of work. He’ll have more patience for Baek’s little guessing games in the morning.


	2. Bookmarked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with 83% more Skepticism!

Chanyeol wakes up to the sound of Baekhyun belting loudly in the shower, butchering the words to some Lizzo song he can’t remember the name of. For once he’s quite thankful for all the noise because he completely forgot to set his alarm last night and it’s almost nine. He hops up and gets dressed as quick as he can, but as he’s about to slip his phone into his pocket he sees that Baekhyun actually texted him back last night. Four freaking times. 

The first message is a .gif of some woman shaking her head, the second is another declaration of his stupidity. 

The last two are screenshots he’s scribbled on via Markup, bright red digital marker circling the brown wall and window in the background of one of the techno whoever posts. The third is the picture he sent yesterday before lunch, crouched on the ground next to the wall he’d just wired. This time there were two circles — one around the unpainted sections of the wall and one of the giant bay window to the right of him and...oh...God.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God—_

“No!”

Baekhyun didn’t even do him the honor of turning around as he stormed into their bathroom. He just continues drying his hair with his towel, smiling smugly at his reflection. “Finally figured it out, genius?”

“Goddammit, Baek, why would you even—like, what are you trying to— Just!” He can’t find the words, rambling as he waves around his phone. “Shut up! No!”

“Chanyeol, you may be a bit slow but you’re not stupid.” Baekhyun cackles. “He was even wearing that shirt yesterday, come on!”

“His shirt was green!”

“And that pic is lightened and filtered heavily,” Baekhyun retorts. “And look at the window in that post, there’s practically the same leaves on the trees.”

“Okay, now you’re just being silly.”

“Maybe so, but you’re still being a moron,” Baekhyun says, squeezing the last bit of water he can out of his hair. “And overreacting a bit, I mean, so you’re building an Instagram Thirst Trap Den, so what?”

“Could you not say that? Jesus,” Chanyeol cringes, as if he hadn’t been calling him and all his friends Faceless Thots 1-4 a couple hours ago. “My aunt babysat this kid, for fuck’s sake.”

“And? So the dude’s a little slutty on Instagram, who isn’t? When did you get so uptight?”

“It’s NOT him.” Chanyeol wants so badly to stay as long as he can, disrupting his friend’s skincare routine the same way he was interrupted last night, but he can’t. He suddenly wants to get to the Lee’s and be done with this job as soon as possible; Baekhyun is not going to make this harder to deal with. “And I’m NOT being uptight!”

“Before you realized you knew the guy you were gonna whack it to his page!” Baekhyun squeals as Chanyeol is escaping quicker than he anticipated. He could hear him sputtering in the hallway as he stumbled opening the door. 

“I was joking!” Chanyeol shouts before slamming the door.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t joking when he said that last night, but he truly didn’t think that’s why Baekhyun was showing him that account. His usual intent is just to share whatever and whoever is getting his engine revving lately. Being a natural oversharer was something they had in common, so Chanyeol really didn’t mind too much. He was always willing to engage. But this? This was ridiculous. And to accuse him of being a prude on top of that? Just because he wasn’t willing to extend his imagination the same way? Now that was just uncalled for. Chanyeol may not be as out there as his friend, but a stranger to perversion he was not.

You couldn’t even see this guy’s face, and from the look of his entire feed, that was always intentional. It was a smart move, mirrored across the rest of his friends’ pages, considering the things they were posting. A brown wall and a similar window shape shouldn’t have been enough to make Baekhyun so sure of his assumption. He saw Taeyong from a phone screen over a bad 4G connection for all of five seconds, was that really convincing enough for him? 

Chanyeol decides the ride to the Lee household was more than enough time to waste thinking about this, because Baekhyun is clearly just fucking with him. He’s not going to spend any more time on this guy or any of these nearly identical pages, no matter how engaging and aesthetically satisfying all of their feeds are (hey, he’s skeptical, not blind). No more needless scrolling or staring at the background of this guy’s pics, obsessively concentrated on his stupid brown walls and similar windows. All windows kind of look the same anyway, right? And brown is a popular wall color. Super popular.

So, he’s not going to spend any more time thinking about this. He’s gonna focus and finish this shit today and then maybe never step foot into this house again. He didn’t stumble across one of his best friend’s e-boy crushes in the real world, he’s just a guy putting up a headboard. He’s not ‘building an Instagram Thirst Trap Den,’ he’s just putting together a bed for a family friend.

He’s not still looking through that guy’s Instagram as he sits outside the house, suspiciously eying the furniture in the background of his older posts that looks too much like the pile of pink wood that’s now sitting on the curb in front of him. He’s just taking a final breather before he speeds through the rest of this build and doesn’t have to lay eyes on this family for another two or three years. He’s not relieved when Mr. Lee says his son is still off on whatever adventure he embarked on last night, he’s just happy that he won’t be disturbed while he’s working. Very, very quickly. So quickly that he doesn’t notice he’s worked through his lunch break until he’s completely done mounting all the shelves and fitting the outlet covers into place. 

The hunger hits him like a freight and after some more not thinking about Taeyong possibly being a part of some Instagram cult, he bravely enters the main house, expecting to find Mrs. Lee at the table. Chaeyong greets him in the kitchen instead, gathering up supplies to run to her mother’s stall at the local food market. Apparently Taeyong should be home soon, but she says she doubts it, as he’s always disappearing ‘because mom lets him.’

Before leaving she lets Chanyeol know he’s free to help himself to the stew on the stove and any of the excessive amount of baked goods around. He eats in the same spot he did at dinner — Taeyong’s spot, he assumes — feeling a little weird about seeing a house that wasn’t his own in several opacities. It was strange being trusted in a stranger’s house when he was just there to do handiwork; he has to keep reminding himself that his memory is just bad and that it’s not abnormal for people who had a hand in raising him to trust him like this.

While finishing off the last piece of a baguette he wasn’t expecting to eat the entirety of, he ignores two texts from Baekhyun and checks Instagram for what he’s certain will be the final time. He’ll be done with it right after he checks **@technolog.ae** ’s story that he definitely didn’t set notifications for. Besides boomerang videos, he’s never seen the kid moving and for some reason that feels like something he needs to see. It’s just his luck that it’s a picture of him standing in an empty alleyway, shielding his face from the camera and beaming sunrise. Chanyeol is extremely happy to see that there's two — not ONE, but TWO! — tattoos on his right arm. A spaceship on the inside of his bicep and something written in English above his elbow. He had barely noticed them on his pics, not that he was looking through them again. He saw Taeyong’s arms yesterday and he didn’t have any tattoos (his mother would probably faint at the sight, come to think of it). He can see the spaceship more clearly in a few pics when he zooms in, although he’s totally not doing that...not a lot. He’s not! The point is he can see this guy has several tattoos all in spots Chanyeol’s definitely seen of Taeyong...not that he was looking that hard. He swears he wasn’t!

Part of him wants to screenshot the post where they’re most visible and send them to Baekhyun, just to rub it in his face, but he’s not going to make the same mistake he did yesterday. It’s already noon and all he has left to do is install the baseboards of the bed frame. Cleaning up before Ol’ Bug Eyes came home was more important; he can halt his ego for a second longer, just to soothe his cowardice.

During the two hours it took for him to put in all the boards, Chanyeol starts to dwell on the elephant he put in the room. He’s not really sure why he’s so adamant on proving this person wasn’t Taeyong, which it wasn’t. Clearly. Perhaps he’s just tired of Baekhyun messing with him, cheekily poking fun at a slight porn addiction he’d rather project onto Chanyeol than address. Yeah, he followed a lot of these same softcore on-the-brink-of-suspension social media pages Baekhyun shared with him (although, a lot of the twitter accounts were actually straight up porn), but who doesn’t? His friend made such a big deal about even the chance that someone he knew was running one, as if he doesn’t know a ton of Twitch streamers with lewd websites. Maybe it was payback, because it’s usually him stumbling across parts of Baekhyun’s acquaintances the sun doesn’t shine on. 

But would it really be that big of a deal if this person was Taeyong? Like, it’s not like he would really care. He’s in no position to judge how anybody gets the attention they desire. He may be a childhood friend, but it’s not like they’re close at all now; Chanyeol didn’t even remember the kid existed, which he still feels kind of bad about. That lingering guilt, and terrible habit of infantilizing anyone even a few months younger than him, are understandably standing in the way of him accepting that it could be Taeyong. And if it was, _which it wasn’t_ , would that really change anything? He was still just building a headboard for someone. Someone who went from wanting to kick his ass to slinking around him silently to blatantly flirting with him. _Wait, was that flirting?_ Chanyeol doesn’t make a habit of batting his eyelashes in general but he knows it’s a thing people do when they flirt...right? If this was his account after all, maybe he wasn’t just kidding around when he asked if Baekhyun was his boyfriend...maybe he was feeling things out, so to speak. Was it cocky for him to think this near stranger was into him because of a couple glances and a wink?

_Oh yeah, he winked at me...wait..._

Okay, so maybe Baekhyun was right about him being a bit of a moron about this, but he’s still not as right as he thinks he is. He’s got bulletproof evidence now.

Taeyong finally appears while he’s checking the level of the shelves, knocking on the window in what was surely an attempt not to startle Chanyeol this time. It still does, but not as much as the person casting a shadow directly over his shoulder as he’s crouched down beside the headboard.

“Wow,” they simply coo, not reacting to Chanyeol jolting at the sound of their voice. “You really built all this?”

Chanyeol stands, a little off-put by the fact that he doesn’t have to look down at the person; they’re eye level with him. “Yeah, I did,” he says proudly, pulling off his work gloves.

“It looks just like the design Tyong showed us, that’s crazy.” They remember their manners only after they’ve walked around the bed, inspecting everything with their hands. “Oh, my bad, I’m Johnny .” They bow, honey brown bangs bouncing as they do, and quickly gesture to their left at the person coming up the stairs to the area. They’re not Taeyong, but are at least closer to his height. The first thing Chanyeol notices is the chain dangling from one of the many piercings in his ear as he pushes his ash blonde hair back. “And this is Ten,” Johnny introduces him.

The other is smiling invitingly, but doesn’t bow, and barely acknowledges Johnny on the other side of the room as he approaches Chanyeol. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, still grinning.

Chanyeol pretends not to see him mouth something to Johnny when he turns, instantly feeling left out of a joke he might be the butt of. They both quickly make themselves at home, moving the plastic tarps off the furniture in the middle of the living room and having a seat. A single seat — Ten stretches himself across Johnny’s lap in the arm chair instead of just laying on the couch and Chanyeol doesn’t think it’s his place to question why.

Taeyong is still outside, doing what seems to be some of the quietest arguing Chanyeol has ever seen. He can’t see who he’s scream-whispering at, only the back of their head, but it’s clearly another boy. He’s a little taller and more broadly built than him, wearing an unseasonal mesh top and baggy mall goth cargo pants. He pinches Taeyong’s cheek teasingly, kissing him on the forehead before he tries to push past him, but Taeyong grabs his arm, laughing but still trying to get across whatever point he’s making. He rustles Taeyong’s hair and pecks him again in the same spot and for some reason Chanyeol’s heart jumps into his throat when Taeyong smiles and nods back at him. Clearly that’s his boyfriend and maybe they were fighting and perhaps it was rude for him to be eavesdropping and why does any of that matter to him in the first place?

Potential Boyfriend is dragging Taeyong through the front door before Chanyeol can process the feeling, grinning up at him on the higher platform like he’s in on the same joke as Johnny and Ten. His hair is cut in a mullet identical to Taeyong’s, except it’s colored a natural, gingery brown. He looks like a fucking anime protagonist come to life, complete with the inexplicably intimidating demeanor clashing with a visible belly button piercing. Taeyong looks kind of red and terrified behind him, a thousand times more subdued than the last time he was standing at that half wall, gazing down at Chanyeol.

“Hey! It’s finished, that’s great,” Taeyong says quickly, pushing a shoulder in front of Potential Boyfriend.

He nudged him back, leaning forward on the wall ledge. “Yeah, it looks great!” he says, parroting Taeyong’s infliction. He sticks his hand out to shake Chanyeol’s, another difference in greeting. “I’m Yuta,” he beams, smile impossibly widening when his handshake is reciprocated. 

“Chanyeol, nice to meet you.”

“Oh yeah, I know who you are,” Yuta says matter-of-factly. He immediately tilts his head close to Taeyong’s ear, not even attempting to whisper “you were right, he is pretty hot.”

And with the panicked look Taeyong flashes his friend and the collective chuckle from the peanut gallery behind them, Chanyeol finally gets the joke.

“You’re his usual type, for sure. Long, tan, handsome, tattoos. No wonder he’s had a giant crush on—”

“OKAAAAY!” Taeyong shrieks, a dry manic chuckle following. “You guys promised to help bring in the mattresses so how about we go do that!? Right now!” He’s uncharacteristically strong as he grabs Yuta by the shoulders and shakes him.

“Yessir!” Yuta laughs, winking at Chanyeol as he’s ushered out with the other two boys. 

Taeyong lags behind, waiting for Chanyeol at the door. He sighs heavily, still blushing as he turns to put up a defensive front. “Don’t mind Yuta, he’s a pathological liar,” he says, completely averting eye contact. “I didn’t tell them you were—I mean, my exact words weren’t—I didn’t—!”

“Relax, Taeyong, geez,” Chanyeol smirks, suddenly a little less jealous as he sees the others clearly trying to look like they’re not watching them. He was the butt of the joke after all, but the joke wasn’t at his expense. “So you told your little friends there was some sexy handyman back at your place to gawk at, so what?” he jokes.

“Hold on, nobody said ‘sexy,’ get over yourself.”

“I did!” Ten suddenly exclaims, the only one brave enough to stop pretending like there was something interesting on their phones. “I said you were sexy. Tyonggie agreed though, soooo—“

“God, shut the _fuck_ up, Ten, goddammit.”

Chanyeol’s shamelessly flexing as he leans his elbow against the door frame, purposely towering over Taeyong now. “He’s a pathological liar, too, I’m guessing,” he says smugly.

Taeyong steps back, light years away from the powerful glaring force he was just yesterday. His eyes linger on Chanyeol’s bare arms for just a second and then back down to the ground as he turns away. “Would you all just get my damn bed, please?!” he squawks, halfway between whining and growling. He stomps up to Johnny and Yuta in the back door and they wordlessly part for him to enter the house. Everybody exchanges knowing smirks before Taeyong’s shrieking for them to follow him inside.

Despite most of them being dressed more appropriately for a My Chemical Romance reunion, the four of them make quick work of hauling Taeyong’s new king sized box spring and pillow top into the guest house. Of the four, Johnny is the only one dressed as casually as Chanyeol in a gray sweatsuit, but he still wore $1000 Balenciegas to move his friend’s stuff around. Next in least out of place clothing would be Taeyong, wearing a baggy black t-shirt that clearly displayed parts of his arms where he had absolutely no tattoos, _thank God._ If it weren’t for the red pleather pants and multi-ringed choker (dog collar?) he was wearing with it, he wouldn’t look so hilarious hauling furniture. And then, there was Ten, self-appointed director of the transporting, whose outfit could only be described as ‘vampire chic,’ all ruffled silhouettes and chiffon. He was right to avoid the heavy lifting; it might have creased the suede Chelsea boots Chanyeol was honestly admiring. 

“Can you build me a new bed, too?” Ten asks, while playing with the dimmer switch Chanyeol decided to install at the last minute. 

“Is yours broken or something?” Chanyeol asks in response, gathering up the last of his tools. 

“No, but if that’s a requirement for your services, I’m sure I can get started on that.”

“Ten, dude, come on!” Johnny cuts him off, tossing a bag of tortilla chips at him. It was one of the many bags of snacks they had unpacked from Johnny’s blue jeep, beginning the impromptu housewarming party immediately after moving the living room back into place. 

“I was joking!” Ten giggles, tossing the bag back. “God, John, get a sense of humor.”

Taeyong is lying across the foot of the naked mattress on his stomach, but Chanyeol can feel his eyes on his back. It was funny seeing how differently he acted among his friends, stronger personalities buzzing around and shrinking him. They finally meet eyes, really, for the first time all day, as Chanyeol leans against the dresser and pretends to check his phone.

The boy’s gnawing on his thumb in the most nervously appealing way — God help him if he decides to actually suck it. His eyes are wide and beckoning, like he wants to ask Chanyeol something. He’s not sure what, until Yuta speaks up, suddenly leaning on him. 

“You sure you don’t want to stay for the party, Chanyeol? The least Tyong could do is pay you in beer and pizza,” he suggests, offering the older the second bottle he’s holding. 

“Or we can find something else for you to fix,” Johnny adds, sounding much too far away in the bathroom. He’s clearly referring to the absence of the shower and sink pipes. “You any good at plumbing?”

Ten snickers again, glancing at Yuta as if he needs permission to speak, so the other says it for him.

“Yeah, Chanyeol, you any good at laying pipe?”

“Alright, alright, enough,” Taeyong springs to life, snatching the beer bottle Yuta is still waving in front of Chanyeol as everyone else sputters into giggles. “Fuck, you guys are the worst.”

“Really, that’s okay,” Chanyeol laughs, “I’ve got my own little get together I’m late for, anyway.” He had only pretended to read his friend’s multiple text messages but that last preview from Baekhyun looks pretty scathing. As much fun as sticking around as bait for Taeyong’s friends to tease him with sounds like it would be, he could actually pick up dinner on time tonight. “But, uhh,” he hauls his duffle bag over his shoulder and picks up his tool box in a single, smooth motion, honestly surprised he didn’t topple over. “You’ve got my number if you need anything else, Taeyong.”

“I do?” Taeyong’s brows knit together in a confused scrunch that Chanyeol finds way too adorable. 

He digs into the pocket of his overalls and pulls out his business card, making sure it was the one with his production logo and not his family’s company name. “You do now,” he says, holding it out towards him.

“Oh,” Taeyong gasps, trying to flatten his expression as he takes the card. “Okay, thanks, hyung.”

“No problem,” Chanyeol responds, egged on Johnny’s amused face directly beside him. He even adds to the infectious winking circulating around the room. “Don’t party too hard, fellas.”

“Bye, Chanyeol,” Yuta says lowly, suddenly hanging over Taeyong’s shoulder and snatching the card from him. “We’ll be sure to get him good and drunk before he calls you.”

Taeyong’s completely red again, from both anger and embarrassment. If looks could kill the wave Chanyeol gave would have been his final goodbye to Taeyong’s friend. He was playing it cool, he really wasn’t going to peek through the window as he was leaving, but the uproar of voices made him too curious to resist. The sight of Taeyong literally tackling Yuta to the floor as Johnny and Ten doubled over hysterically, not trying to help at all, kept him chuckling all the way home. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun had made it sound like he was starving in his texts, yet he was busy doing a different kind of eating when Chanyeol came through the door with the large stack of takeout he was instructed to buy.

“Seriously, guys?” Chanyeol groans, throwing the boxes onto the kitchen counter. “You couldn’t do that in your own fucking room?” The two guys on the couch in front of him barely separate, but Baekhyun’s boyfriend is at least polite enough to tuck himself back into his joggers.

“Well, sorry,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We thought we had the house to ourselves.”

“Don’t try it, Sehun. I’m not even late,” Chanyeol retorts, tapping the clock on the wall as he comes into the living room and sits on the far end of the couch. 

“The one time I would have been fine with you being late,” Baekhyun pouts, not even bothering to get up from the floor where he’s nestled between Sehun’s knees.

“Yeah, well unfortunately I did my job correctly today. So sorry I actually wanted to spend time with my best friends for once.”

“For once you could have been getting laid instead,” Sehun snorts, fingers still laced in Baekhyun’s hair. “I mean, Lee Chaeyong’s little brother? You’re such a dumbass.”

Chanyeol grimaces as Baekhyun tries his best to look nonchalant and innocent. Of course he’d told Sehun about this already, why didn’t he expect to be walking into another ambush? “Would it kill you to keep your mouth shut, Baek?” Chanyeol asks, retreating to the kitchen for a drink.

“Doesn’t surprise me that he’s a Technolog now,” Sehun continues, effectively shushing Baekhyun before he can lie. “Got passed around when we were in school enough, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, you would know, huh?” Chanyeol jokes, keeping his head stuck in the refrigerator. “Wait, he’s a what?” Of course Sehun remembers him, but this random Instagram thing? Had his friends been snooping around on those pages without him?

“A Technolog. That Ulzzang clique the seniors started? You don’t remember that?”

“Ulzzangs haven't been a thing since like 2014, babe. Besides, Chanyeol was straight in high school.”

“Oh, right!” Sehun chuckles, “my bad.”

Chanyeol doesn’t press, just mumbles a “fuck you” from behind the fridge door, kind of desperate to end this conversation as quickly as possible because _ohhhh no, oh no, no, no, no_ —

He does remember that clique. Vaguely, because his big dumb brain is bad at remembering any-fucking-thing, even when he’s staring him dead in the face. 

He remembers that clique now, of course. It allegedly started as a joke between some underclassmen, theatre and music department ‘geeks’ that always inexplicably ended up invited to all the senior parties. Despite being the same pretentious silver spoon brats and rich foreigners who fit right in with Chanyeol’s status-obsessed circle, some of them just stuck out like metrosexual, flamboyant sore thumbs. It wasn’t exactly a secret that they were always inducting new “members,” Chanyeol recalls Sehun being strangely propositioned once by one of their stockier, athletic types. He didn’t end up “joining” but he did hook up with the guy; whether that was some kind of initiation or just something Sehun was gonna do regardless was never really made clear.

All Chanyeol really knew about them was that they had a really popular website where they’d livestream and embed videos of them doing mundane shit on YouTube. Their female classmates were devastated when the site got taken down for idiotically posting evidence of “inappropriate roughhousing and vandalism” on school grounds. The site didn’t resurface until Chanyeol was well into college, all but uninterested in what his former delinquent peers were up to. Or so he thought, until Baekhyun decided sending him the link to their new website in the middle of class was something he should do. What else could he do but scratch that itch?

It was tough for Chanyeol to concentrate on any given day when playing FPS teams with Baekhyun & Sehun on stream, but tonight was even worse. He was already pretty bad at Apex Legends and his wandering mind wasn’t exactly helping his game at all. Besides the constant trash talk and Baekhyun’s chat being full of dedicated fangirls celebrating the couple’s victory smooches with personalized emotes, he had to fight the temptation to cut his game cam off every time he got killed and go searching for that damn bookmark he knows he shouldn’t have kept. 

After ten rounds he actually got a few kills, which the chat happily cheered him through, but it wasn’t easy with the weight of his phone in his pocket making him twitch with curiosity. Baekhyun was now at an untouchable level with his bodyguard boyfriend and 13 kills under his belt, so it wouldn’t be smart to confront him over his now shaken ‘solid proof.’ He’d congratulate himself on actually being able not die for two consecutive rounds later, especially since that might have been his only win of the night. 

Excusing himself after they finished the stream is easy as the couple immediately begins laying the affection back on as soon as the computers are powered down. Chanyeol would think they’d completely forgot he was in the room if they didn’t occasionally demand commentary from him on the movie they were now barely watching. It’s just like his friends to unconsciously dump a massive realization on him and leave him to deal with it on his own, fucking know-it-all bastards. He leaves his laptop on the table, not even bothering to haul the complicated gaming set-up back to his own desk. He doesn’t wash up before hopping into bed either, just strips down to his boxers and chucks himself onto his mattress, heavy head first.

The link is exactly where he remembered it to be, bookmarked on his phone in a folder labeled “demos to rework.” Smart of him, because he knows almost anybody who would ever be close enough to him to take a peek at his phone wouldn’t dare subject themselves to his awful, unfinished garage band debacles. There’s nothing too shocking in this stash, anyway. POVs where the top resembles him physically, a little light bondage, a few more femdom videos than necessary, maybe. There wasn’t anything he was too embarrassed about indulging in here, but still the idea of saving any porn on any device just felt a bit skeevy to him. 

Still, he was a grown man with a sex drive and particular tastes he doesn’t need to justify. _Fuck it_ , he shrugs. Might as well completely prove himself wrong before throwing himself to the mercy of Baekhyun’s ‘I told you so!’

As he glances around the home page, what he could see of these members didn’t seem terribly familiar. They were adamant on hiding or obscuring their faces at all times now, either with face masks or distorted pixels. It was clear the group continued recruiting after the ones he knew grew up, grew out, or found something else to do besides post thirst traps on the Internet. The site operated a lot more professionally; all the guys go by nicknames now, the same ones from Instagram, no locations disclosed. They still did the live-streams, except most of them were now behind a 19+ paywall. It didn’t take Chanyeol long to figure out why — they were smart enough to reroute all their raunchier content to a private domain. A private domain Chanyeol knows he has access to, because of course he had clicked into it ONCE and paid the single lifetime fee. Of course he did that.

He feels slightly clever hovering over the second link saved on his folder, titled with just French flag emojis. He’s surprised he hasn’t accidentally clicked on it before, completely forgetting what exactly it’s referencing.

When he presses play he’s immediately sure it’s the same guy from Instagram, even the title of the clip smacks him over the head with that realization. It starts with A.E, laying on a bed wearing his usual black face mask and scrolling through his phone as the camera enters. The guy holding it, another Technolog boy he calls N.G, carries on a conversation with him as if they’re not both aware he’s being filmed. The tone quickly turns from casual to accusatory as A.E focuses even harder on his phone, barely engaging from behind his long, highlighted bangs. N.G snatches it when he refuses to answer the simple question of what he was doing and shows the camera he was sexting someone. There’s no real plot in this scene besides this, but The Jealous Partner™️ seems to play out regardless. A.E seems amused by the very convincing malice in N.G’s voice; he’s all giggles and unconvincing protests as he’s tossed around, pinned down, and reprimanded for being such a goddamn tease. There’s no doubt he’s enjoying this, reacting more like he’s being rewarded for his behavior than punished. He’s clearly egging on the top’s ever-increasing aggression. It’s only 10 minutes into the scene and it’s clear they’re just fucking, flimsy plot tossed to the wayside. A disembodied voice happily breaks whatever fourth wall they’d tried to establish when a second camera angle is edited in.

_“Look at him, you’re torturing the poor thing,”_ he says, focusing the camera on the slow, deep thrusts connecting the two. _“You want it harder, don’t you, Baby?”_ the cameraman asks in a noticeably softer tone. His (rather large) hand comes into frame, yanking A.E’s head up by his hair a lot more forcefully than necessary, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Chanyeol pretends to ignore the familiar gleam in the pretty, pretty eyes staring up into the camera. Giant pupils blown and pleading that could belong to absolutely anybody. He’s thankful when the face mask is pulled up over them to expose his pretty, pretty mouth instead. 

N.G scoffs in response, obviously less sympathetic. _“He’s fine,”_ he bites back, pressing A.E back down into the mattress, _“spoiled little slut.”_ Even though he’s literally balls deep inside the subject of his scolding, he continues ranting about their ‘household’s’ tendency to let A.E selfishly derail scenes at will. Somehow Chanyeol admires his ability to ignore the whining and writhing mess he's got underneath him.

Chanyeol’s more partial to traditional POVs including a single couple, but the sudden intrusion of the second cameraman as the scene went awry made this video an easy exception. The third party acts effortlessly like the actual voice of the viewer, poking fun at the hate-love between the couple and being swept in by A.E’s greediness almost immediately. The second top mirrors his own physique a lot more — tall and lanky, yet slightly muscular with vascular hands he has no problem imagining as his own.

There’s a chuckle from behind the camera as they harshly dig into the skin of the bottom’s back, reddening instantly. _“Feel good?”_ he asks cheekily when A.E wails in approval. N.G continues the agonizingly slow pace, burying himself to the hilt but never snapping as hard as he knows the other boy wants him to. _“You really can’t get off without this, huh?”_ The man on the opposite side continues scraping whelps up & down the perfectly arched back between them as A.E makes deepthroating his above average size look easy. Not that you get to actually see much of it, as it pretty much stays in A.E’s mouth for most of the video.

Chanyeol finds himself so caught up in chasing his high that he barely acknowledges the door is still slightly open while he’s masturbating above his covers with the lights on. Unusual for him, but he’s far too gone to get up and close his door now. At least he remembered to put on his Air Pods this time. 

A.E is cooing like a dove directly in his ears, moaning around one dick while another pumps him full, and the throuple barely has time to catch their breath before he’s turning around to present his ass to the other. He’s panting heavily, appreciating the continued agitation of warm scratches down his back and being penetrated a lot more roughly this time. N.G settles in front of him and spits out more insults A.E takes happily, agreeing to every different iteration of him being slutty, greedy, two-timing this and that. He cums with nails digging into hips and hands around his throat, followed quickly by the cameraman — who’d been fucking him so well the editor comically censored A.E saying his actual name — and then Chanyeol seconds after.

_“N.G-yah, you still look upset, wasn't I good for you?”_ he asks playfully, body wiggling against the mattress as he flips over and tugs his makeshift blindfold back down over his mouth. _“Come on, say you forgive me, NG,”_ he whines. _“Ugh, he’s no fun, you guys.”_ He’s tugging at N.G as the other laughs beside him, letting go as he slips off the bed, and leaves A.E to sign off on his own. He cutely closes the video insisting he had fun so that’s all that matters and throws a peace sign at the camera. If Chanyeol tells himself the tone doesn’t sound similar to Taeyong’s enough times then it’ll be true, right?

The livestream feed on the right margin of the site catches Chanyeol’s eye once his vision returns and the video minimizes back into the blog post. 

He knew the paywall applied to all the livestreams already and he’s never been happier to have saved Baekhyun’s password in his phone months ago. When clicking into the page you’re greeted by all the usual pornography disclaimers and threats of legal action upon redistribution or repost; yada, yada, yada. There’s a final notice in bright yellow, though, warning that the page is protected from external screen capture and violation would result in immediate account suspension.

_Jesus, fuck...whatever they’re doing better be worth Baek’s money,_ he thinks. They’ve already got plenty of barely censored, lengthy scenes up for free, what’s with the extra smoke & mirrors?

Chanyeol immediately regrets asking when he clicks OK on the window and the video thumbnail library begins to load. On this side of their site, the face and eye masks are clearly voluntary. And not many of the boys seem keen on hiding their faces this deep down the rabbit hole, either. 

_Ohhhhh, no..._

He scrolls to the most recent one from A.E, dated about a 2 weeks ago, and the title…goddamnit, the title alone made his dick twitch a little.

**REEL: [AE] was Lonely so [MO] came to Play (^=•=^)**

He’s only a little ashamed of his body’s reaction. Even worse, the thumbnail is a close-up of a pair of annoyingly big, annoyingly sparkly, annoyingly familiar eyes peeking out below messy, split dyed red & gray bangs, topped with furry gray cat ears. 

The eyes are now darting around frantically responding to the chat as the video starts, close enough to the camera to only be showing half of his face, but it’s definitely...a guy with eyes like Taeyong’s. _“Don’t I look fluffy, guys? Hahaha, I love these.”_ He’s thankfully wearing the world’s cutest face mask, printed with a pink kitten nose and whiskers over the mouth. He also has a really similar face shape to Taeyong...a similar eye shape too, along with a whimsical skip in his tone. The video shuffles around clips of him thanking people for gifts and appeasing his chat’s requests.

“ _show us that sexy tail”_

_“meow for me, Baby”_

_“clean your face in a cute way”_

_“purr into the mic”_

All the usual cat boy shit that no one seems to ever get tired of. A request to “ _show the milk dish if you haz one”_ has him shrieking about being thirsty at the door behind him.

_“MO MO is here, everyone!”_ He announces excitedly to the chat as someone peaks into the room, clapping softly as greetings pour into for the second Technolog. _“I was getting bored playing all by myself,”_ he sighs out, undoubtedly pouting behind his mask.

_“Oh, Baby, you look so cute,”_ MO squeals, tugging at the ears clipped to his head. The cackle hits him like a freight train as a mass of bleached white hair bounces crashes down onto the bed with AE. _“Why are you all dressed up for everybody?”_ He asks, leaning back to admire the fluffy gray butt plug tail that’s fully accessible under the oversized t-shirt AE is wearing.

Chanyeol’s got goosebumps down his arms because this guy isn’t wearing a mask of any kind. And he’s definitely…

A guy who looks and sounds and acts like Taeyong’s friend Yuta that he literally just met a couple hours ago. Wow! What are the odds this is just some similar looking guy? Very, very slim, he concludes as he’s contemplating slinging his phone right out the fucking window.

_“MO MO-yah,”_ he says, cute and whiny as his new company wastes no time slipping his hands onto out-of-frame places on AE’s body. _“I’m thirsty.”_

_“Me too,”_ the person who looks exactly like Taeyong’s friend but with much longer, much whiter hair says, face buried in AE’s neck as he laughs at his own joke. _“Why else would I be here?”_

The guy that’s extremely similar to Taeyong (but maybe not him! Maybe!) rolls his big, pretty, annoying eyes and laughs, too. _“No, stupid. Kitty is thirsty,”_ he stresses, leaning in to nudge against him. _“Do you have anything for me?”_

MO pulls back to inspect his expression. _“Oh, my kitty, you’re my kitty now,”_ he repeats, smiling widely as the scene he stumbled upon becomes clear. _“My poor kitty is hungry, yes?”_ He asks, finally playing along. _“Kitties like milk, do you want some of mine?”_

The clips escalate a lot quicker after a fierce battle of suggestive eyebrow movements between the two and it’s luckily not too long of a compilation because Chanyeol feels almost too dizzy to keep up. It gets especially harder to concentrate when MO reads a comment ordering him to take off AE’s mask and kiss him and he’s…clearly Taeyong.

Surprise, surprise. It’s been Taeyong the entire time, the different hair color just made it a little easier for Chanyeol to stay a bit skeptical. He so badly wanted his best friend to be wrong about something they argued about, just once. He’s also a little worried about if he should even finish the video, considering he was literally just with the two people going at it right in the palm of his hand.

The compilation cuts straight from that clip to one of Taeyong literally fucking _purring_ while taking Yuta’s dick alongside the plug of his cattail, giving Chanyeol’s perfect whiplash. The boy’s eyes are trained just slightly left as he pants and moans, only ceasing his wailing to giggle at comments about him watching himself on the playback monitor. It’s apparently something he’s always getting called out on. Yuta distracts him from his vanity with an animalistic looking bite to the back of his neck that has him cumming almost instantly, clawing at the sheets. The last clip shows Taeyong playfully lapping along his length, coaxing out the cream he more than earned and batting at his dangling belly ring. Tons of flowery praise is rolling off Yuta’s tongue for his pretty little kitty, despite his shit-eating grin. He clearly finds more humor than arousal in the costume, but had no problem fucking him to tears in.

After his second open door relieving of the night, Chanyeol is unfortunately left to contemplate a lot more than he usually does after masturbating. This has to be wrong in some convoluted way, right? He’s not freaking out about absolutely nothing here, he isn’t sweating just because his phone and room and bed are all suddenly warmer. There’s gotta be something wrong with meeting someone and unintentionally seeing HD footage of their manhood without their technical permission that same day. There’s gotta be something inappropriate about not being able to stop watching a childhood friend expertly roll his tongue around the barbell piercing attached to a guy you just shook hands with ( _of course a guy who looks like Yuta has the underside of his dick pierced,_ Chanyeol thinks while rolling his eyes, _of fucking course he does_ ). He just can’t put his finger on why it’s wrong...mostly because he’s without a free hand at the moment. He’s still got half of his fingers wrapped around his own dick and the other half around his phone.

There’s gotta be something wrong with imagining your old classmate-turned-cam boy happily swallowing you down to the last drop as you stroke yourself alone in your bed because you’re literally watching how well he does it for the second time tonight. Even if you only just recently remembered he existed, even if he’s been flirting with you for the last two days, even if their friends made it extremely clear he’s really into you, but doesn’t want to admit it...

_Right?_

Well, if there is something actually wrong with it, he’ll have to worry about it later. He’s already cum twice and is hovering his thumb over another highlight reel, contemplating whether or not he wants to watch more of Taeyong’s friends top each other off. If he allows himself to be completely honest, nothing about Taeyong and the way he acted said that he didn’t desire people to see this side of him. He just knows now that they just needed to pay the right price first. Tired and conflicted by the fact that the one in this thumbnail looks a lot like that little shrimpy one Ten doing something very inappropriate to a guy with a giant neck tattoo, he decides sleeping off his shame was a better idea.

He still bookmarks it, though. Just in case.


End file.
